


Wet Hellfire

by CastielMorningstar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Embarrassed Dean Winchester, Hell Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Omorashi, Post-Hell Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26704360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielMorningstar/pseuds/CastielMorningstar
Summary: Dean has been plagued with nightmares since he was raised from hell, but one night they have an unusual effect on him just as a certain angel checks in on him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Wet Hellfire

**Author's Note:**

> Wow its been a hot minute since I wrote any SPN fanfic, so hi spn fans that I kinda neglected. Here's some omo because yeah.   
> (Also rated teen for mentions of hell torture.)

Since returning from hell, Dean hadn’t gone a single night without awakening from some awful nightmare-flashback in a cold sweat, terrified to his very core. He’d been silent about handling it though, and Sam slept like the dead so even his whimpers of distress when he awoke weren’t enough to wake him. He had barely slept a wink and was exhausted beyond belief.

So that evening when Sam had suggested he go to bed early to try and catch up on sleep while he did some research for their current case, Dean hadn’t refused, going to bed around 7pm that night, which was way earlier than the usual midnight or later time he usually hit the hay; although it wasn’t like he had a bedtime routine anyway, he never had even as a kid, he just slept when he could, when he wasn’t being attacked by monsters, although they were attacking him in his sleep now too so there was no true escape.

Apparently going to bed early had helped a bit, because Dean slept soundly for several hours, before the hell visions started to emerge from his subconscious.

The screams of the tortured souls rang through his ears, the pleads that he ignored and started to actually enjoy as the years of his damnation ticked by, and he lost a grip on who he really was. That was the worst part. Not the torturing. Knowing that a sick part of him had liked it. It made him feel sick to his stomach to think about, and he hadn’t dared tell anyone about it, and likely would take it to his grave when he returned, probably soon with how their lives went. He was deeply ashamed of how he’d become one of the very monsters he’d sworn to kill.

In the memory-nightmare, Alastair, his mentor of sorts, was yelling at Dean as he hesitated to tear a man’s eyeballs out.

_“Dean stop being a wuss and do it!” he screamed, “It’s you or him.”_

At this point, Dean was still mostly in touch with his human side, and so his response had been,

_“Then take me.”_ Even though he was terrified to ever be back on the rack himself.

_Alastair glared at Dean, “You don’t want to do this, Dean. Just take them out, and you’ll get a break.”_

_But Dean stood his ground, “No.”_

_“Very well, but I warned you.” Seconds later Dean was the one tied to the rack and now as he struggled against the chains that burned his wrists, he felt that familiar cold terror ripping through his chest. The pure fear that had caused him to make the dehumanizing decision to torture souls instead, so he’d be relieved of this suffering._

_“No-No please! I’ll do it!” he begged as Alastair picked up the razor-sharp tongs that Dean had been holding just before._

_A sadistic smile played across the demon’s face, “Uh uh Dean. I gave you a choice, and you made yours. Now you have to live with it.” He leaned in closer and watched as Dean struggled and cried out for help, his eyes screwed shut to protect his eyes, “Aw come now, Dean. They’ll grow back. It’ll only hurt for a minute…but it’ll hurt like hell.” He cackled, prying Dean’s eyelid open with his fingers and leaning the tongs over his open eye._

_“Sam!”_

-

Dean awoke in the early morning hours, crying out the name of his brother like he had done so often in the pit. He was soaking wet, covered in cold sweat, and shivering like nothing else.

Wait…soaking?

Also, the dampness wasn’t entirely cold.

The terrified man fumbled for the bedside lamp and grumbled as he tried the switch but of course it was broken, “F-freaking motels.” He breathed, still shaking with fear as he instead grasped for his flashlight, using it immediately to look around the room, as if expecting to see Alastair there, ready to continue his torture on him.

But there was no one there, and Sam was still snoring up a storm thankfully. Dean sighed softly in relief, his heart rate starting to go down a bit. But now he had to figure out why the hell he felt so weird.

He lifted the covers, shined the light under and his eyes went wide at what he saw.

However, before he could process it, out of nowhere there was a sudden whooshing sound and Dean’s heart nearly left his body as he jumped in fear and immediately lifted the flashlight to the source, expecting a demon. But instead it was just the angel Castiel, the one who had saved him from his nightmarish existence in hell.

Dean swallowed and lowered it, hands still shaking, “C-Cas what the hell!” he was scared, he was embarrassed, and now nervous of the angel finding out what he’d done.

Castiel blinked against the bright light, “My apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you. I sensed you were in distress, so I came to see if you were alright.”

Hearing that the angel wanted to know if he was okay, did touch Dean. But right now, he really didn’t want Castiel here. “W-well that’s…nice I guess…b-but I’m fine.” He insisted, but his voice and hands were still shaking, and he couldn’t have looked more guilty.

The angel squinted and tilted his head, in a way Dean had come to recognize as meaning he was confused, or contemplating, “You certainly don’t seem okay. Your adrenaline levels are off the charts, and I can hear your heartbeat from here.”

Wait, angels could hear hearts like that?

Dean swallowed hard, realizing he should just fess up to part of what happened, and hope the angel would leave him alone, “I-I just had a nightmare, alright?” he pushed his sweaty hair back from his forehead, probably just making it messier, “I don’t need you to scare the monsters out from under my bed.”

“Monsters don’t generally reside under beds, do they?” Castiel replied, confused and he crouched down to peer under Dean’s crappy motel bed.

Scared that he’d see what happened, Dean clung to the sheets, pulling them close and trying to ensure there was no way the angel would see what was under them.

He may not have seen, but it seemed he smelt it because the angel was sniffing loudly and making a face, “It smells like sulphur in here. There are no demons in here are there?”

Dean swallowed hard, “No…not to my knowledge, no.” was it that strong, or did angels have super smell too? He really hoped the angel would leave now.

“You are acting very nervous, Dean.” Castiel stared Dean down like an interrogation and Dean knew very well he looked guilty, “Are you hiding something from me?”

The hunter glanced anxiously over at his brother in the bed a few feet away from him, and saw that somehow, he was still asleep, thankfully. The last thing he needed was for Sam to wake up and get involved too. “Nope.”

Castiel frowned, “You’re lying. Do not lie to me, Dean.” He seemed angry now, “I raised you from hell, the least you owe me is the truth.”

He had a point. But Dean really did not want to tell a literal angel of the lord that he, a fully grown man, had pissed the bed because of a nightmare. Just at the thought, he felt a light blush bloom over his cheeks, and he dropped his gaze, making it extra obvious that he was ashamed of himself, “O-okay…I…I am lying.”

The angel stepped a little closer, examining Dean’s body language, “You seem…ashamed of something. Is it because of the hell memory dreams? Because those are to be expected from anyone who has experienced something like that. I do not fault you for being frightened by them.”

That was nice to hear, even though that wasn’t the reason why Dean felt so uncomfortable, “I know- “he cleared his throat, wondering why he was about to fess this up to this guy he barely knew, and was again a _literal angel of God_. But it seemed he wasn’t going to leave without an answer, and Dean wanted to try and get a bit more sleep before he had to get up, plus it was really uncomfortable sitting there in wet underwear and he needed to get up and change soon.

But he couldn’t bring himself to say it, so Dean just mumbled, “Okay fine.” And pushed back the covers to reveal his wet boxers and the wet stain on the sheets beneath him. His face burned brightly with embarrassment and he stared down, avoiding Castiel’s eyes which would surely be full of judgement right now.

“Did you spill something?” Castiel still seemed confused and Dean sighed a bit. He really didn’t want to have to say it out loud. “Why would you be ashamed of that?”

“N-no Cas...I…I didn’t spill something.” He swallowed, biting his lip.

Castiel frowned then sniffed again, and it seemed he put the pieces together at last, “Did you urinate in your bed?”

Hearing it be said aloud made a fresh wave of humiliation crash over Dean and he put a finger to his lips, “Shh!” he hissed even though he was definitely louder than Cas just now. He quickly looked over to Sam who stopped snoring for a moment but then continued, and Dean sighed in relief.

“So that’s what you are hiding.” Castiel said nonchalantly and Dean slowly looked up at him, and he didn’t seem judgy at all, “Why are you so humiliated about it?”

Of course. Cas was an angel. He didn’t understand why wetting the bed as an adult was embarrassing. He cleared his throat, fidgeting uncomfortably on the damp sheets, “Because…adults don’t do that. It’s…embarrassing for an adult to do it.” He explained simply.

“I understand.” Castiel nodded, “Well, I personally do not, since I have never urinated in a bed, since I neither can urinate, nor do I have a bed- “

Dean didn’t want to talk about it any more than necessary, so when Cas started rambling, he cut him off, “Cas, stop.”

And he did. “My apologies.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment, then broken by the angel “I meant that I do not judge you, Dean.”

That did make Dean feel a bit better, “Thanks, Cas.” He tugged at his wet boxers which were sticking to him, “I appreciate that…but now I gotta go clean off.”

“Allow me.”

“What?” Dean looked up just as Castiel placed a hand over the wet sheets and with a slight glow from his palm the wetness disappeared from the sheets. He blinked and felt them to be sure he hadn’t imagined it, and they were dry as anything, and smelt fresh too, fresher even than when he’d gotten into the bed earlier. “Wow.”

Then Cas was shifting his hand closer, hovering it over Dean’s wet boxers but Dean pushed it away before he could do anything, “Thanks, but please don’t use your mojo that close to my junk. I have no idea what it’ll do to it.”

The angel looked a bit confused, but he seemed to understand maybe that was too far, “Alright. I shall leave you to clean yourself up in peace.” He took a few steps back, “Sleep well, Dean. And may I suggest emptying your bladder before you go to sleep next time.”

Dean frowned, already heading to the bathroom, “Goodnight Cas.” And with a whoosh the angel was gone again, leaving Dean to clean himself up as quietly as he could, ending up just tossing out his soiled underwear in the garbage outside; he had nowhere to wash them and didn’t want to risk Sam seeing them. He returned to bed after putting on fresh ones, feeling a little safer knowing he had an angel watching over him who would literally dry his piss-soaked sheets without judgement.

He let out a soft sigh as he closed his eyes and pulled the dry sheets close and drifted into the most peaceful sleep he’d had in months.


End file.
